The autobiography of benjamin franklin

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES EDITED
BY CHARLES W. ELIOT, L.L.D.,
P. F. COLLIER & SON COMPANY, NEW YORK
(1909)
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
Benjamin Franklin was born in Milk Street, Boston, on Janu-
ary 6, 1706. His father, Josiah Franklin, was a tallow chan-
dler who married twice, and of his seventeen children Ben-
jamin was the youngest son. His schooling ended at ten,
and at twelve he was bound apprentice to his brother James,
a printer, who published the “New England Courant.” To this
journal he became a contributor, and later was for a time its
nominal editor. But the brothers quarreled, and Benjamin
ran away, going first to New York, and thence to Philadel-
phia, where he arrived in October, 1723. He soon obtained
work as a printer, but after a few months he was induced by
Governor Keith to go to London, where, finding Keith’s prom-
ises empty, he again worked as a compositor till he was
brought back to Philadelphia by a merchant named Denman,
who gave him a position in his business. On Denman’s death
he returned to his former trade, and shortly set up a print-
ing house of his own from which he published “The Pennsyl-
vania Gazette,” to which he contributed many essays, and
which he made a medium for agitating a variety of local

reforms. In 1732 he began to issue his famous “Poor Richard’s
Almanac” for the enrichment of which he borrowed or com-
posed those pithy utterances of worldly wisdom which are
the basis of a large part of his popular reputation. In 1758,
the year in which he ceases writing for the Almanac, he
printed in it “Father Abraham’s Sermon,” now regarded as
the most famous piece of literature produced in Colonial
America.
Meantime Franklin was concerning himself more and more
with public affairs. He set forth a scheme for an Academy,
which was taken up later and finally developed into the
University of Pennsylvania; and he founded an “American
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
3
Philosophical Society” for the purpose of enabling scientific
men to communicate their discoveries to one another. He
himself had already begun his electrical researches, which,
with other scientific inquiries, he called on in the intervals
of money-making and politics to the end of his life. In 1748
he sold his business in order to get leisure for study, having
now acquired comparative wealth; and in a few years he had
made discoveries that gave him a reputation with the learned
throughout Europe. In politics he proved very able both as
an administrator and as a controversialist; but his record as
an office-holder is stained by the use he made of his posi-
tion to advance his relatives. His most notable service in
home politics was his reform of the postal system; but his
fame as a statesman rests chiefly on his services in connec-
tion with the relations of the Colonies with Great Britain,
and later with France. In 1757 he was sent to England to

protest against the influence of the Penns in the govern-
ment of the colony, and for five years he remained there,
striving to enlighten the people and the ministry of En-
gland as to Colonial conditions. On his return to America he
played an honorable part in the Paxton affair, through which
he lost his seat in the Assembly; but in 1764 he was again
despatched to England as agent for the colony, this time to
petition the King to resume the government from the hands
of the proprietors. In London he actively opposed the pro-
posed Stamp Act, but lost the credit for this and much of
his popularity through his securing for a friend the office of
stamp agent in America. Even his effective work in helping
to obtain the repeal of the act left him still a suspect; but
he continued his efforts to present the case for the Colonies
as the troubles thickened toward the crisis of the Revolu-
tion. In 1767 he crossed to France, where he was received
with honor; but before his return home in 1775 he lost his
position as postmaster through his share in divulging to
Massachusetts the famous letter of Hutchinson and Oliver.
On his arrival in Philadelphia he was chosen a member of
the Continental Congress and in 1777 he was dispatched to
France as commissioner for the United States. Here he re-
mained till 1785, the favorite of French society; and with
such success did he conduct the affairs of his country that
when he finally returned he received a place only second to
that of Washington as the champion of American indepen-
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
4
dence. He died on April 17, 1790.
The first five chapters of the Autobiography were com-

posed in England in 1771, continued in 1784-5, and again
in 1788, at which date he brought it down to 1757. After a
most extraordinary series of adventures, the original form
of the manuscript was finally printed by Mr. John Bigelow,
and is here reproduced in recognition of its value as a pic-
ture of one of the most notable personalities of Colonial
times, and of its acknowledged rank as one of the great
autobiographies of the world.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
1706-1757
TWYFORD, at the Bishop of St. Asaph’s, 1771.
The country-seat of Bishop Shipley, the good bishop, as
Dr. Franklin used to style him.B.
DEAR SON: I have ever had pleasure in obtaining any little
anecdotes of my ancestors. You may remember the inquiries
I made among the remains of my relations when you were
with me in England, and the journey I undertook for that
purpose. Imagining it may be equally agreeable to* you to
know the circumstances of my life, many of which you are
yet unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of a
week’s uninterrupted leisure in my present country retire-
ment, I sit down to write them for you. To which I have
besides some other inducements. Having emerged from the
poverty and obscurity in which I was born and bred, to a
state of affluence and some degree of reputation in the world,
and having gone so far through life with a considerable share
of felicity, the conducing means I made use of, which with
the blessing of God so well succeeded, my posterity may
like to know, as they may find some of them suitable to

their own situations, and therefore fit to be imitated.
That felicity, when I reflected on it, has induced me some-
times to say, that were it offered to my choice, I should
have no objection to a repetition of the same life from its
beginning, only asking the advantages authors have in a
* After the words “agreeable to” the words “some of” were inter-
lined and afterward effaced.—B.
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
5
second edition to correct some faults of the first. So I might,
besides correcting the faults, change some sinister accidents
and events of it for others more favorable. But though this
were denied, I should still accept the offer. Since such a
repetition is not to be expected, the next thing most like
living one’s life over again seems to be a recollection of that
life, and to make that recollection as durable as possible by
putting it down in writing.
Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination so natural in
old men, to be talking of themselves and their own past
actions; and I shall indulge it without being tiresome to
others, who, through respect to age, might conceive them-
selves obliged to give me a hearing, since this may be read
or not as any one pleases. And, lastly (I may as well confess
it, since my denial of it will be believed by nobody), per-
haps I shall a good deal gratify my own vanity. Indeed, I
scarce ever heard or saw the introductory words, “Without
vanity I may say,” &c., but some vain thing immediately
followed. Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share
they have of it themselves; but I give it fair quarter wher-
ever I meet with it, being persuaded that it is often produc-

tive of good to the possessor, and to others that are within
his sphere of action; and therefore, in many cases, it would
not be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for his
vanity among the other comforts of life.
And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all humil-
ity to acknowledge that I owe the mentioned happiness of
my past life to His kind providence, which lead me to the
means I used and gave them success. My belief of this in-
duces me to hope, though I must not presume, that the
same goodness will still be exercised toward me, in continu-
ing that happiness, or enabling me to bear a fatal reverse,
which I may experience as others have done: the complex-
ion of my future fortune being known to Him only in whose
power it is to bless to us even our afflictions.
The notes one of my uncles (who had the same kind of
curiosity in collecting family anecdotes) once put into my
hands, furnished me with several particulars relating to our
ancestors. From these notes I learned that the family had
lived in the same village, Ecton, in Northamptonshire, for
three hundred years, and how much longer he knew not
(perhaps from the time when the name of Franklin, that
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
6
before was the name of an order of people, was assumed by
them as a surname when others took surnames all over the
kingdom), on a freehold of about thirty acres, aided by the
smith’s business, which had continued in the family till his
time, the eldest son being always bred to that business; a
custom which he and my father followed as to their eldest
sons. When I searched the registers at Ecton, I found an

account of their births, marriages and burials from the year
1555 only, there being no registers kept in that parish at
any time preceding. By that register I perceived that I was
the youngest son of the youngest son for five generations
back. My grandfather Thomas, who was born in 1598, lived
at Ecton till he grew too old to follow business longer, when
he went to live with his son John, a dyer at Banbury, in
Oxfordshire, with whom my father served an apprenticeship.
There my grandfather died and lies buried. We saw his grave-
stone in 1758. His eldest son Thomas lived in the house at
Ecton, and left it with the land to his only child, a daugh-
ter, who, with her husband, one Fisher, of Wellingborough,
sold it to Mr. Isted, now lord of the manor there. My grand-
father had four sons that grew up, viz.: Thomas, John, Ben-
jamin and Josiah. I will give you what account I can of
them, at this distance from my papers, and if these are not
lost in my absence, you will among them find many more
particulars.
Thomas was bred a smith under his father; but, being
ingenious, and encouraged in learning (as all my brothers
were) by an Esquire Palmer, then the principal gentleman in
that parish, he qualified himself for the business of scriv-
ener; became a considerable man in the county; was a chief
mover of all public-spirited undertakings for the county or
town of Northampton, and his own village, of which many
instances were related of him; and much taken notice of
and patronized by the then Lord Halifax. He died in 17O2,
January 6, old style, just four years to a day before I was
born. The account we received of his life and character from
some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck you as some-

thing extraordinary, from its similarity to what you knew of
mine.
“Had he died on the same day,” you said, “one might
have supposed a transmigration.”
John was bred a dyer, I believe of woolens. Benjamin was
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
7
bred a silk dyer, serving an apprenticeship at London. He
was an ingenious man. I remember him well, for when I was
a boy he came over to my father in Boston, and lived in the
house with us some years. He lived to a great age. His grand-
son, Samuel Franklin, now lives in Boston. He left behind
him two quarto volumes, MS., of his own poetry, consisting
of little occasional pieces addressed to his friends and rela-
tions, of which the following, sent to me, is a specimen.* He
had formed a short-hand of his own, which he taught me,
but, never practicing it, I have now forgot it. I was named
after this uncle, there being a particular affection between
him and my father. He was very pious, a great attender of
sermons of the best preachers, which he took down in his
short-hand, and had with him many volumes of them. He
was also much of a politician; too much, perhaps, for his
station. There fell lately into my hands, in London, a collec-
tion he had made of all the principal pamphlets, relating to
public affairs, from 1641 to 1717; many of the volumes are
wanting as appears by the numbering, but there still remain
eight volumes in folio, and twenty-four in quarto and in
octavo. A dealer in old books met with them, and knowing
me by my sometimes buying of him, he brought them to me.
It seems my uncle must have left them here, when he went

to America, which was about fifty years since. There are
many of his notes in the margins.
This obscure family of ours was early in the Reformation,
and continued Protestants through the reign of Queen Mary,
when they were sometimes in danger of trouble on account
of their zeal against popery. They had got an English Bible,
and to conceal and secure it, it was fastened open with
tapes under and within the cover of a joint-stool. When my
great-great-grandfather read it to his family, he turned up
the joint-stool upon his knees, turning over the leaves then
under the tapes. One of the children stood at the door to
give notice if he saw the apparitor coming, who was an of-
ficer of the spiritual court. In that case the stool was turned
down again upon its feet, when the Bible remained con-
cealed under it as before. This anecdote I had from my uncle
Benjamin. The family continued all of the Church of En-
* Here follow in the margin the words, in brackets, “here insert it,”
but the poetry is not given. Mr. Sparks informs us (Life of
Franklin, p. 6) that these volumes had been preserved, and were
in possession of Mrs. Emmons, of Boston, great-granddaughter
of their author.
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
8
gland till about the end of Charles the Second’s reign, when
some of the ministers that had been outed for nonconfor-
mity holding conventicles in Northamptonshire, Benjamin
and Josiah adhered to them, and so continued all their lives:
the rest of the family remained with the Episcopal Church.
Josiah, my father, married young, and carried his wife
with three children into New England, about 1682. The con-

venticles having been forbidden by law, and frequently dis-
turbed, induced some considerable men of his acquaintance
to remove to that country, and he was prevailed with to
accompany them thither, where they expected to enjoy their
mode of religion with freedom. By the same wife he had
four children more born there, and by a second wife ten
more, in all seventeen; of which I remember thirteen sitting
at one time at his table, who all grew up to be men and
women, and married; I was the youngest son, and the young-
est child but two, and was born in Boston, New England. My
mother, the second wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Pe-
ter Folger, one of the first settlers of New England, of whom
honorable mention is made by Cotton Mather in his church
history of that country, entitled Magnalia Christi Americana,
as ‘a godly, learned Englishman,” if I remember the words
rightly. I have heard that he wrote sundry small occasional
pieces, but only one of them was printed, which I saw now
many years since. It was written in 1675, in the home-spun
verse of that time and people, and addressed to those then
concerned in the government there. It was in favor of lib-
erty of conscience, and in behalf of the Baptists, Quakers,
and other sectaries that had been under persecution, as-
cribing the Indian wars, and other distresses that had be-
fallen the country, to that persecution, as so many judg-
ments of God to punish so heinous an offense, and exhort-
ing a repeal of those uncharitable laws. The whole appeared
to me as written with a good deal of decent plainness and
manly freedom. The six concluding lines I remember, though
I have forgotten the two first of the stanza; but the purport
of them was, that his censures proceeded from good-will,

and, therefore, he would be known to be the author.
“Because to be a libeller (says he)
I hate it with my heart;
From Sherburne town, where now I dwell
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
9
My name I do put here;
Without offense your real friend,
It is Peter Folgier.”
My elder brothers were all put apprentices to different trades.
I was put to the grammar- school at eight years of age, my
father intending to devote me, as the tithe of his sons, to
the service of the Church. My early readiness in learning to
read (which must have been very early, as I do not remem-
ber when I could not read), and the opinion of all his friends,
that I should certainly make a good scholar, encouraged
him in this purpose of his. My uncle Benjamin, too, ap-
proved of it, and proposed to give me all his short-hand
volumes of sermons, I suppose as a stock to set up with, if I
would learn his character. I continued, however, at the gram-
mar-school not quite one year, though in that time I had
risen gradually from the middle of the class of that year to
be the head of it, and farther was removed into the next
class above it, in order to go with that into the third at the
end of the year. But my father, in the meantime, from a
view of the expense of a college education, which having so
large a family he could not well afford, and the mean living
many so educated were afterwards able to obtainreasons
that be gave to his friends in my hearingaltered his first
intention, took me from the grammar-school, and sent me

to a school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a then fa-
mous man, Mr. George Brownell, very successful in his pro-
fession generally, and that by mild, encouraging methods.
Under him I acquired fair writing pretty soon, but I failed in
the arithmetic, and made no progress in it. At ten years old
I was taken home to assist my father in his business, which
was that of a tallow-chandler and sope-boiler; a business he
was not bred to, but had assumed on his arrival in New
England, and on finding his dying trade would not maintain
his family, being in little request. Accordingly, I was em-
ployed in cutting wick for the candles, filling the dipping
mold and the molds for cast candles, attending the shop,
going of errands, etc.
I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination for the
sea, but my father declared against it; however, living near
the water, I was much in and about it, learnt early to swim
well, and to manage boats; and when in a boat or canoe
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
10
with other boys, I was commonly allowed to govern, espe-
cially in any case of difficulty; and upon other occasions I
was generally a leader among the boys, and sometimes led
them into scrapes, of which I will mention one instance, as
it shows an early projecting public spirit, tho’ not then justly
conducted.
There was a salt-marsh that bounded part of the mill-
pond, on the edge of which, at high water, we used to stand
to fish for minnows. By much trampling, we had made it a
mere quagmire. My proposal was to build a wharff there fit
for us to stand upon, and I showed my comrades a large

heap of stones, which were intended for a new house near
the marsh, and which would very well suit our purpose. Ac-
cordingly, in the evening, when the workmen were gone, I
assembled a number of my play-fellows, and working with
them diligently like so many emmets, sometimes two or three
to a stone, we brought them all away and built our little
wharff. The next morning the workmen were surprised at
missing the stones, which were found in our wharff. Inquiry
was made after the removers; we were discovered and com-
plained of; several of us were corrected by our fathers; and
though I pleaded the usefulness of the work, mine convinced
me that nothing was useful which was not honest.
I think you may like to know something of his person and
character. He had an excellent constitution of body, was of
middle stature, but well set, and very strong; he was inge-
nious, could draw prettily, was skilled a little in music, and
had a clear pleasing voice, so that when he played psalm
tunes on his violin and sung withal, as he sometimes did in
an evening after the business of the day was over, it was
extremely agreeable to hear. He had a mechanical genius
too, and, on occasion, was very handy in the use of other
tradesmen’s tools; but his great excellence lay in a sound
understanding and solid judgment in prudential matters,
both in private and public affairs. In the latter, indeed, he
was never employed, the numerous family he had to edu-
cate and the straightness of his circumstances keeping him
close to his trade; but I remember well his being frequently
visited by leading people, who consulted him for his opin-
ion in affairs of the town or of the church he belonged to,
and showed a good deal of respect for his judgment and

advice: he was also much consulted by private persons about
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
11
their affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently
chosen an arbitrator between contending parties.
At his table he liked to have, as often as he could, some
sensible friend or neighbor to converse with, and always
took care to start some ingenious or useful topic for dis-
course, which might tend to improve the minds of his chil-
dren. By this means he turned our attention to what was
good, just, and prudent in the conduct of life; and little or
no notice was ever taken of what related to the victuals on
the table, whether it was well or ill dressed, in or out of
season, of good or bad flavor, preferable or inferior to this
or that other thing of the kind, so that I was bro’t up in
such a perfect inattention to those matters as to be quite
indifferent what kind of food was set before me, and so
unobservant of it, that to this day if I am asked I can scarce
tell a few hours after dinner what I dined upon. This has
been a convenience to me in travelling, where my compan-
ions have been sometimes very unhappy for want of a suit-
able gratification of their more delicate, because better in-
structed, tastes and appetites.
My mother had likewise an excellent constitution: she
suckled all her ten children. I never knew either my father
or mother to have any sickness but that of which they dy’d,
he at 89, and she at 85 years of age. They lie buried together
at Boston, where I some years since placed a marble over
their grave, with this inscription:

JOSIAH FRANKLIN,
and
ABIAH his Wife,
lie here interred.
They lived lovingly together in wedlock
fifty-five years.
Without an estate, or any gainful employment,
By constant labor and industry,
with God’s blessing,
They maintained a large family
comfortably,
and brought up thirteen children
and seven grandchildren
reputably.
From this instance, reader,
Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,
And distrust not Providence.
He was a pious and prudent man;
She, a discreet and virtuous woman.
Their youngest son,
In filial regard to their memory,
Places this stone.
J.F. born 1655, died 1744, AEtat 89.
A.F. born 1667, died 1752, —— 95.
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
12
By my rambling digressions I perceive myself to be grown
old. I us’d to write more methodically. But one does not
dress for private company as for a public ball. ’Tis perhaps
only negligence.

To return: I continued thus employed in my father’s busi-
ness for two years, that is, till I was twelve years old; and
my brother John, who was bred to that business, having left
my father, married, and set up for himself at Rhode Island,
there was all appearance that I was destined to supply his
place, and become a tallow-chandler. But my dislike to the
trade continuing, my father was under apprehensions that
if he did not find one for me more agreeable, I should break
away and get to sea, as his son Josiah had done, to his great
vexation. He therefore sometimes took me to walk with him,
and see joiners, bricklayers, turners, braziers, etc., at their
work, that he might observe my inclination, and endeavor
to fix it on some trade or other on land. It has ever since
been a pleasure to me to see good workmen handle their
tools; and it has been useful to me, having learnt so much
by it as to be able to do little jobs myself in my house when
a workman could not readily be got, and to construct little
machines for my experiments, while the intention of mak-
ing the experiment was fresh and warm in my mind. My
father at last fixed upon the cutler’s trade, and my uncle
Benjamin’s son Samuel, who was bred to that business in
London, being about that time established in Boston, I was
sent to be with him some time on liking. But his expecta-
tions of a fee with me displeasing my father, I was taken
home again.
From a child I was fond of reading, and all the little money
that came into my hands was ever laid out in books. Pleased
with the Pilgrim’s Progress, my first collection was of John
Bunyan’s works in separate little volumes. I afterward sold
them to enable me to buy R. Burton’s Historical Collections;

they were small chapmen’s books, and cheap, 40 or 50 in all.
My father’s little library consisted chiefly of books in po-
lemic divinity, most of which I read, and have since often
regretted that, at a time when I had such a thirst for knowl-
edge, more proper books had not fallen in my way since it
was now resolved I should not be a clergyman. Plutarch’s
Lives there was in which I read abundantly, and I still think
that time spent to great advantage. There was also a book of
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
13
De Foe’s, called an Essay on Projects, and another of Dr.
Mather’s, called Essays to do Good, which perhaps gave me a
turn of thinking that had an influence on some of the prin-
cipal future events of my life.
This bookish inclination at length determined my father
to make me a printer, though he had already one son (James)
of that profession. In 1717 my brother James returned from
England with a press and letters to set up his business in
Boston. I liked it much better than that of my father, but
still had a hankering for the sea. To prevent the apprehended
effect of such an inclination, my father was impatient to
have me bound to my brother. I stood out some time, but at
last was persuaded, and signed the indentures when I was
yet but twelve years old. I was to serve as an apprentice till
I was twenty-one years of age, only I was to be allowed
journeyman’s wages during the last year. In a little time I
made great proficiency in the business, and became a useful
hand to my brother. I now had access to better books. An
acquaintance with the apprentices of booksellers enabled
me sometimes to borrow a small one, which I was careful to

return soon and clean. Often I sat up in my room reading
the greatest part of the night, when the book was borrowed
in the evening and to be returned early in the morning, lest
it should be missed or wanted.
And after some time an ingenious tradesman, Mr. Mat-
thew Adams, who had a pretty collection of books, and who
frequented our printing-house, took notice of me, invited
me to his library, and very kindly lent me such books as I
chose to read. I now took a fancy to poetry, and made some
little pieces; my brother, thinking it might turn to account,
encouraged me, and put me on composing occasional bal-
lads. One was called The Lighthouse Tragedy, and contained
an account of the drowning of Captain Worthilake, with his
two daughters: the other was a sailor’s song, on the taking
of Teach (or Blackbeard) the pirate. They were wretched stuff,
in the Grub-street-ballad style; and when they were printed
he sent me about the town to sell them. The first sold won-
derfully, the event being recent, having made a great noise.
This flattered my vanity; but my father discouraged me by
ridiculing my performances, and telling me verse-makers were
generally beggars. So I escaped being a poet, most probably
a very bad one; but as prose writing bad been of great use to
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
14
me in the course of my life, and was a principal means of my
advancement, I shall tell you how, in such a situation, I
acquired what little ability I have in that way.
There was another bookish lad in the town, John Collins
by name, with whom I was intimately acquainted. We some-
times disputed, and very fond we were of argument, and

very desirous of confuting one another, which disputatious
turn, by the way, is apt to become a very bad habit, making
people often extremely disagreeable in company by the con-
tradiction that is necessary to bring it into practice; and
thence, besides souring and spoiling the conversation, is
productive of disgusts and, perhaps enmities where you may
have occasion for friendship. I had caught it by reading my
father’s books of dispute about religion. Persons of good
sense, I have since observed, seldom fall into it, except law-
yers, university men, and men of all sorts that have been
bred at Edinborough.
A question was once, somehow or other, started between
Collins and me, of the propriety of educating the female sex
in learning, and their abilities for study. He was of opinion
that it was improper, and that they were naturally unequal
to it. I took the contrary side, perhaps a little for dispute’s
sake. He was naturally more eloquent, had a ready plenty of
words; and sometimes, as I thought, bore me down more by
his fluency than by the strength of his reasons. As we parted
without settling the point, and were not to see one another
again for some time, I sat down to put my arguments in
writing, which I copied fair and sent to him. He answered,
and I replied. Three or four letters of a side had passed,
when my father happened to find my papers and read them.
Without entering into the discussion, he took occasion to
talk to me about the manner of my writing; observed that,
though I had the advantage of my antagonist in correct spell-
ing and pointing (which I ow’d to the printing-house), I fell
far short in elegance of expression, in method and in per-
spicuity, of which he convinced me by several instances. I

saw the justice of his remark, and thence grew more atten-
tive to the manner in writing, and determined to endeavor
at improvement.
About this time I met with an odd volume of the Specta-
tor. It was the third. I had never before seen any of them. I
bought it, read it over and over, and was much delighted
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
15
with it. I thought the writing excellent, and wished, if pos-
sible, to imitate it. With this view I took some of the papers,
and, making short hints of the sentiment in each sentence,
laid them by a few days, and then, without looking at the
book, try’d to compleat the papers again, by expressing each
hinted sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been ex-
pressed before, in any suitable words that should come to
hand. Then I compared my Spectator with the original, dis-
covered some of my faults, and corrected them. But I found
I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness in recollecting and
using them, which I thought I should have acquired before
that time if I had gone on making verses; since the con-
tinual occasion for words of the same import, but of differ-
ent length, to suit the measure, or of different sound for
the rhyme, would have laid me under a constant necessity
of searching for variety, and also have tended to fix that
variety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore I
took some of the tales and turned them into verse; and,
after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose,
turned them back again. I also sometimes jumbled my col-
lections of hints into confusion, and after some weeks en-
deavored to reduce them into the best order, before I began

to form the full sentences and compleat the paper. This was
to teach me method in the arrangement of thoughts. By
comparing my work afterwards with the original, I discov-
ered many faults and amended them; but I sometimes had
the pleasure of fancying that, in certain particulars of small
import, I had been lucky enough to improve the method or
the language, and this encouraged me to think I might pos-
sibly in time come to be a tolerable English writer, of which
I was extremely ambitious. My time for these exercises and
for reading was at night, after work or before it began in the
morning, or on Sundays, when I contrived to be in the print-
ing-house alone, evading as much as I could the common
attendance on public worship which my father used to ex-
act on me when I was under his care, and which indeed I
still thought a duty, though I could not, as it seemed to me,
afford time to practise it.
When about 16 years of age I happened to meet with a
book, written by one Tryon, recommending a vegetable diet.
I determined to go into it. My brother, being yet unmarried,
did not keep house, but boarded himself and his appren-
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
16
tices in another family. My refusing to eat flesh occasioned
an inconveniency, and I was frequently chid for my singu-
larity. I made myself acquainted with Tryon’s manner of pre-
paring some of his dishes, such as boiling potatoes or rice,
making hasty pudding, and a few others, and then proposed
to my brother, that if he would give me, weekly, half the
money he paid for my board, I would board myself. He in-
stantly agreed to it, and I presently found that I could save

half what he paid me. This was an additional fund for buy-
ing books. But I had another advantage in it. My brother
and the rest going from the printing-house to their meals, I
remained there alone, and, despatching presently my light
repast, which often was no more than a bisket or a slice of
bread, a handful of raisins or a tart from the pastry-cook’s,
and a glass of water, had the rest of the time till their re-
turn for study, in which I made the greater progress, from
that greater clearness of head and quicker apprehension
which usually attend temperance in eating and drinking.
And now it was that, being on some occasion made asham’d
of my ignorance in figures, which I had twice failed in learn-
ing when at school, I took Cocker’s book of Arithmetick,
and went through the whole by myself with great ease. I
also read Seller’s and Shermy’s books of Navigation, and be-
came acquainted with the little geometry they contain; but
never proceeded far in that science. And I read about this
time Locke On Human Understanding, and the Art of Think-
ing, by Messrs. du Port Royal.
While I was intent on improving my language, I met with
an English grammar (I think it was Greenwood’s), at the end
of which there were two little sketches of the arts of rheto-
ric and logic, the latter finishing with a specimen of a dis-
pute in the Socratic method; and soon after I procur’d
Xenophon’s Memorable Things of Socrates, wherein there are
many instances of the same method. I was charm’d with it,
adopted it, dropt my abrupt contradiction and positive ar-
gumentation, and put on the humble inquirer and doubter.
And being then, from reading Shaftesbury and Collins, be-
come a real doubter in many points of our religious doc-

trine, I found this method safest for myself and very embar-
rassing to those against whom I used it; therefore I took a
delight in it, practis’d it continually, and grew very artful
and expert in drawing people, even of superior knowledge,
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
17
into concessions, the consequences of which they did not
foresee, entangling them in difficulties out of which they
could not extricate themselves, and so obtaining victories
that neither myself nor my cause always deserved. I continu’d
this method some few years, but gradually left it, retaining
only the habit of expressing myself in terms of modest dif-
fidence; never using, when I advanced any thing that may
possibly be disputed, the words certainly, undoubtedly, or
any others that give the air of positiveness to an opinion;
but rather say, I conceive or apprehend a thing to be so and
so; it appears to me, or I should think it so or so, for such
and such reasons; or I imagine it to be so; or it is so, if I am
not mistaken. This habit, I believe, has been of great advan-
tage to me when I have had occasion to inculcate my opin-
ions, and persuade men into measures that I have been from
time to time engag’d in promoting; and, as the chief ends of
conversation are to inform or to be informed, to please or to
persuade, I wish well-meaning, sensible men would not lessen
their power of doing good by a positive, assuming manner,
that seldom fails to disgust, tends to create opposition, and
to defeat every one of those purposes for which speech was
given to us, to wit, giving or receiving information or plea-
sure. For, if you would inform, a positive and dogmatical
manner in advancing your sentiments may provoke contra-

diction and prevent a candid attention. If you wish infor-
mation and improvement from the knowledge of others, and
yet at the same time express yourself as firmly fix’d in your
present opinions, modest, sensible men, who do not love
disputation, will probably leave you undisturbed in the pos-
session of your error. And by such a manner, you can seldom
hope to recommend yourself in pleasing your hearers, or to
persuade those whose concurrence you desire. Pope says,
judiciously:
“Men should be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown propos’d as things forgot;”
farther recommending to us
“To speak, tho’ sure, with seeming diffidence.”
And he might have coupled with this line that which he has
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
18
coupled with another, I think, less properly,
“For want of modesty is want of sense.”
If you ask, Why less properly? I must repeat the lines,
“Immodest words admit of no defense,
For want of modesty is want of sense.”
Now, is not want of sense (where a man is so unfortunate as
to want it) some apology for his want of modesty? and would
not the lines stand more justly thus?
“Immodest words admit but this defense,
That want of modesty is want of sense.”
This, however, I should submit to better judgments.
My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun to print a news-
paper. It was the second that appeared in America, and was
called the New England Courant. The only one before it was

the Boston News-Letter. I remember his being dissuaded by
some of his friends from the undertaking, as not likely to
succeed, one newspaper being, in their judgment, enough
for America. At this time (1771) there are not less than
five-and-twenty. He went on, however, with the undertak-
ing, and after having worked in composing the types and
printing off the sheets, I was employed to carry the papers
thro’ the streets to the customers.
He had some ingenious men among his friends, who amus’d
themselves by writing little pieces for this paper, which gain’d
it credit and made it more in demand, and these gentlemen
often visited us. Hearing their conversations, and their ac-
counts of the approbation their papers were received with, I
was excited to try my hand among them; but, being still a
boy, and suspecting that my brother would object to print-
ing anything of mine in his paper if he knew it to be mine,
I contrived to disguise my hand, and, writing an anonymous
paper, I put it in at night under the door of the printing-
house. It was found in the morning, and communicated to
his writing friends when they call’d in as usual. They read
it, commented on it in my hearing, and I had the exquisite
pleasure of finding it met with their approbation, and that,
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
19
in their different guesses at the author, none were named
but men of some character among us for learning and inge-
nuity. I suppose now that I was rather lucky in my judges,
and that perhaps they were not really so very good ones as
I then esteem’d them.
Encourag’d, however, by this, I wrote and convey’d in the

same way to the press several more papers which were equally
approv’d; and I kept my secret till my small fund of sense
for such performances was pretty well exhausted and then I
discovered it, when I began to be considered a little more by
my brother’s acquaintance, and in a manner that did not
quite please him, as he thought, probably with reason, that
it tended to make me too vain. And, perhaps, this might be
one occasion of the differences that we began to have about
this time. Though a brother, he considered himself as my
master, and me as his apprentice, and accordingly, expected
the same services from me as he would from another, while
I thought he demean’d me too much in some he requir’d of
me, who from a brother expected more indulgence. Our dis-
putes were often brought before our father, and I fancy I
was either generally in the right, or else a better pleader,
because the judgment was generally in my favor. But my
brother was passionate, and had often beaten me, which I
took extreamly amiss; and, thinking my apprenticeship very
tedious, I was continually wishing for some opportunity of
shortening it, which at length offered in a manner unex-
pected.*
One of the pieces in our newspaper on some political point,
which I have now forgotten, gave offense to the Assembly.
He was taken up, censur’d, and imprison’d for a month, by
the speaker’s warrant, I suppose, because he would not dis-
cover his author. I too was taken up and examin’d before
the council; but, tho’ I did not give them any satisfaction,
they content’d themselves with admonishing me, and dis-
missed me, considering me, perhaps, as an apprentice, who
was bound to keep his master’s secrets.

During my brother’s confinement, which I resented a good
deal, notwithstanding our private differences, I had the
management of the paper; and I made bold to give our rul-
ers some rubs in it, which my brother took very kindly, while
* I fancy his harsh and tyrannical treatment of me might be a
means of impressing me with that aversion to arbitrary power
that has stuck to me through my whole life.
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
20
others began to consider me in an unfavorable light, as a
young genius that had a turn for libelling and satyr. My
brother’s discharge was accompany’d with an order of the
House (a very odd one), that “James Franklin should no
longer print the paper called the New England Courant.”
There was a consultation held in our printing-house among
his friends, what he should do in this case. Some proposed
to evade the order by changing the name of the paper; but
my brother, seeing inconveniences in that, it was finally
concluded on as a better way, to let it be printed for the
future under the name of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN; and to avoid
the censure of the Assembly, that might fall on him as still
printing it by his apprentice, the contrivance was that my
old indenture should be return’d to me, with a full discharge
on the back of it, to be shown on occasion, but to secure to
him the benefit of my service, I was to sign new indentures
for the remainder of the term, which were to be kept pri-
vate. A very flimsy scheme it was; however, it was immedi-
ately executed, and the paper went on accordingly, under
my name for several months.
At length, a fresh difference arising between my brother

and me, I took upon me to assert my freedom, presuming
that he would not venture to produce the new indentures. It
was not fair in me to take this advantage, and this I there-
fore reckon one of the first errata of my life; but the unfair-
ness of it weighed little with me, when under the impres-
sions of resentment for the blows his passion too often urged
him to bestow upon me, though he was otherwise not an ill-
natur’d man: perhaps I was too saucy and provoking.
When he found I would leave him, he took care to prevent
my getting employment in any other printing-house of the
town, by going round and speaking to every master, who
accordingly refus’d to give me work. I then thought of going
to New York, as the nearest place where there was a printer;
and I was rather inclin’d to leave Boston when I reflected
that I had already made myself a little obnoxious to the
governing party, and, from the arbitrary proceedings of the
Assembly in my brother’s case, it was likely I might, if I
stay’d, soon bring myself into scrapes; and farther, that my
indiscrete disputations about religion began to make me
pointed at with horror by good people as an infidel or athe-
ist. I determin’d on the point, but my father now siding
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
21
with my brother, I was sensible that, if I attempted to go
openly, means would be used to prevent me. My friend Collins,
therefore, undertook to manage a little for me. He agreed
with the captain of a New York sloop for my passage, under
the notion of my being a young acquaintance of his, that
had got a naughty girl with child, whose friends would com-
pel me to marry her, and therefore I could not appear or

come away publicly. So I sold some of my books to raise a
little money, was taken on board privately, and as we had a
fair wind, in three days I found myself in New York, near
300 miles from home, a boy of but 17, without the least
recommendation to, or knowledge of any person in the place,
and with very little money in my pocket.
My inclinations for the sea were by this time worne out,
or I might now have gratify’d them. But, having a trade, and
supposing myself a pretty good workman, I offer’d my ser-
vice to the printer in the place, old Mr. William Bradford,
who had been the first printer in Pennsylvania, but removed
from thence upon the quarrel of George Keith. He could give
me no employment, having little to do, and help enough
already; but says he, “My son at Philadelphia has lately lost
his principal hand, Aquila Rose, by death; if you go thither,
I believe he may employ you.” Philadelphia was a hundred
miles further; I set out, however, in a boat for Amboy, leav-
ing my chest and things to follow me round by sea.
In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that tore our
rotten sails to pieces, prevented our getting into the Kill
and drove us upon Long Island. In our way, a drunken Dutch-
man, who was a passenger too, fell overboard; when he was
sinking, I reached through the water to his shock pate, and
drew him up, so that we got him in again. His ducking so-
bered him a little, and he went to sleep, taking first out of
his pocket a book, which he desir’d I would dry for him. It
proved to be my old favorite author, Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s
Progress, in Dutch, finely printed on good paper, with cop-
per cuts, a dress better than I had ever seen it wear in its
own language. I have since found that it has been trans-

lated into most of the languages of Europe, and suppose it
has been more generally read than any other book, except
perhaps the Bible. Honest John was the first that I know of
who mix’d narration and dialogue; a method of writing very
engaging to the reader, who in the most interesting parts
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
22
finds himself, as it were, brought into the company and
present at the discourse. De Foe in his Cruso, his Moll
Flanders, Religious Courtship, Family Instructor, and other
pieces, has imitated it with success; and Richardson has
done the same, in his Pamela, etc.
When we drew near the island, we found it was at a place
where there could be no landing, there being a great surff
on the stony beach. So we dropt anchor, and swung round
towards the shore. Some people came down to the water
edge and hallow’d to us, as we did to them; but the wind
was so high, and the surff so loud, that we could not hear so
as to understand each other. There were canoes on the shore,
and we made signs, and hallow’d that they should fetch us;
but they either did not understand us, or thought it imprac-
ticable, so they went away, and night coming on, we had no
remedy but to wait till the wind should abate; and, in the
meantime, the boatman and I concluded to sleep, if we could;
and so crowded into the scuttle, with the Dutchman, who
was still wet, and the spray beating over the head of our
boat, leak’d thro’ to us, so that we were soon almost as wet
as he. In this manner we lay all night, with very little rest;
but, the wind abating the next day, we made a shift to reach
Amboy before night, having been thirty hours on the water,

without victuals, or any drink but a bottle of filthy rum,
and the water we sail’d on being salt.
In the evening I found myself very feverish, and went in
to bed; but, having read somewhere that cold water drank
plentifully was good for a fever, I follow’d the prescription,
sweat plentiful most of the night, my fever left me, and in
the morning, crossing the ferry, I proceeded on my journey
on foot, having fifty miles to Burlington, where I was told I
should find boats that would carry me the rest of the way to
Philadelphia.
It rained very hard all the day; I was thoroughly soak’d,
and by noon a good deal tired; so I stopt at a poor inn,
where I staid all night, beginning now to wish that I had
never left home. I cut so miserable a figure, too, that I found,
by the questions ask’d me, I was suspected to be some run-
away servant, and in danger of being taken up on that sus-
picion. However, I proceeded the next day, and got in the
evening to an inn, within eight or ten miles of Burlington,
kept by one Dr. Brown. He entered into conversation with
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
23
me while I took some refreshment, and, finding I had read a
little, became very sociable and friendly. Our acquaintance
continu’d as long as he liv’d. He had been, I imagine, an
itinerant doctor, for there was no town in England, or coun-
try in Europe, of which he could not give a very particular
account. He had some letters, and was ingenious, but much
of an unbeliever, and wickedly undertook, some years after,
to travestie the Bible in doggrel verse, as Cotton had done
Virgil. By this means he set many of the facts in a very

ridiculous light, and might have hurt weak minds if his work
had been published; but it never was.
At his house I lay that night, and the next morning reach’d
Burlington, but had the mortification to find that the regu-
lar boats were gone a little before my coming, and no other
expected to go before Tuesday, this being Saturday; where-
fore I returned to an old woman in the town, of whom I had
bought gingerbread to eat on the water, and ask’d her ad-
vice. She invited me to lodge at her house till a passage by
water should offer; and being tired with my foot travelling,
I accepted the invitation. She understanding I was a printer,
would have had me stay at that town and follow my busi-
ness, being ignorant of the stock necessary to begin with.
She was very hospitable, gave me a dinner of ox-cheek with
great good will, accepting only a pot of ale in return; and I
thought myself fixed till Tuesday should come. However,
walking in the evening by the side of the river, a boat came
by, which I found was going towards Philadelphia, with sev-
eral people in her. They took me in, and, as there was no
wind, we row’d all the way; and about midnight, not having
yet seen the city, some of the company were confident we
must have passed it, and would row no farther; the others
knew not where we were; so we put toward the shore, got
into a creek, landed near an old fence, with the rails of
which we made a fire, the night being cold, in October, and
there we remained till daylight. Then one of the company
knew the place to be Cooper’s Creek, a little above Philadel-
phia, which we saw as soon as we got out of the creek, and
arriv’d there about eight or nine o’clock on the Sunday morn-
ing, and landed at the Market-street wharf.

I have been the more particular in this description of my
journey, and shall be so of my first entry into that city, that
you may in your mind compare such unlikely beginnings
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
24
with the figure I have since made there. I was in my working
dress, my best cloaths being to come round by sea. I was
dirty from my journey; my pockets were stuff’d out with
shirts and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where to look
for lodging. I was fatigued with travelling, rowing, and want
of rest, I was very hungry; and my whole stock of cash con-
sisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling in copper. The
latter I gave the people of the boat for my passage, who at
first refus’d it, on account of my rowing; but I insisted on
their taking it. A man being sometimes more generous when
he has but a little money than when he has plenty, perhaps
thro’ fear of being thought to have but little.
Then I walked up the street, gazing about till near the
market-house I met a boy with bread. I had made many a
meal on bread, and, inquiring where he got it, I went imme-
diately to the baker’s he directed me to, in Secondstreet,
and ask’d for bisket, intending such as we had in Boston;
but they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia. Then I
asked for a three-penny loaf, and was told they had none
such. So not considering or knowing the difference of money,
and the greater cheapness nor the names of his bread, I
made him give me three-penny worth of any sort. He gave
me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surpriz’d at
the quantity, but took it, and, having no room in my pock-
ets, walk’d off with a roll under each arm, and eating the

other. Thus I went up Market-street as far as Fourth-street,
passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife’s father;
when she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made,
as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance.
Then I turned and went down Chestnut-street and part of
Walnut- street, eating my roll all the way, and, corning round,
found myself again at Market-street wharf, near the boat I
came in, to which I went for a draught of the river water;
and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other two to
a woman and her child that came down the river in the boat
with us, and were waiting to go farther.
Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by
this time had many clean-dressed people in it, who were all
walking the same way. I joined them, and thereby was led
into the great meeting-house of the Quakers near the mar-
ket. I sat down among them, and, after looking round awhile
and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy thro’ labor and
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
25